


All In The Name of Science

by bondboy68



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: 00Q - Freeform, Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Sex Toys, awkward christmas parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-19 12:29:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/573276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bondboy68/pseuds/bondboy68
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They bet Q he couldn’t do it, so of course he had to. But what does one do when they are in possession of the greatest sex toy ever invented?</p>
            </blockquote>





	All In The Name of Science

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [一切为了科学](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2433344) by [Go_MrCactus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Go_MrCactus/pseuds/Go_MrCactus)



> This story is not meant to make sense. If you are reading and you find yourself thinking ‘Wait, what? That’s not how that works.... That doesn't make any sense.... That would never work!” I’m going to need you to stop, take that thought, and put a pin in it and momentarily suspend your disbelief. Thank you. 
> 
> Also I'm sorry for any awkwardness with the smut; I typically don't write/post smut so I started getting self-conscious.

“Is this everything?”

“No, we’re still waiting on the data from Michaels.” 

“Here it is, I’ve got it!” Q gathered up the files and charts that were being waved at him. 

“Alright, this is everything.” Around him, the department grinning and chuckled. Q sighed at them. “What were the rules of the wager?” 

Another coworker stepped forward. “You get one week. You can use anything in the lab, but you can’t get any help. And you have to incorporate everything we’ve gathered here.” 

Q nodded and slid his glasses up his nose. “Alright. In a weeks time, I will unveil,” he was going to have to find a better name for this, “the greatest and most pleasurable sex toy ever invented.” The department cheered. How did he let himself get talked into this? 

Oh, yes. It had started with an office party. A very dreaded office party. 

Q was not normally one for parties. Too many people, too much expected of him to be sociable and make small talk and listen to stories he didn’t care about. He’d much rather be working at home with a cup of tea. He’d been threatened into attending, and when he walked into the room he didn’t recognize it at all. Part of MI6 had been transformed into a temporary winter wonderland. Many people had dressed up in gaudy Christmas sweaters or antler headbands. 

Q stood awkwardly against the wall, feeling like he was back in school at the one dance he’d been to, watching everybody chat and laugh while he wished desperately he hadn’t come at all. 

“You look like somebody stole your fancy mobile and smashed it to bits.” Q looked up to see Bond had somehow appeared next to him, handing him a drink.

“Oh, thank you.”

“Cheers.” The agent touched their glasses together before swallowing half of his own. Q took a sip. “Seriously, stop looking so glum. It’s a party. If we’re lucky M will show up wearing something slutty and dance on a table.” 

It was one of those times when Q couldn’t tell if Bond was being serious. But the agent was gone before he could discern either way. He continued to stay against the wall, sipping his drink sullenly, and wondering how long it would be before he could leave. 

And that was when it all started.

He was found by a group from the Q Department and volunteered to enter into a debate about physics and what they could and could not to do agent’s cars. New drinks were continually put in his hand and by the time he sat down to play an actual drinking game he was quite drunk. 

“You probably wouldn’t know where to put it.”

“I know where to put it!” 

“Drink!” 

“Just because you know where to put it, doesn't mean you can use it.”

“I can use it.”

“Oh yeah! Prove it.”

“Drink!” 

“It’s not like the human body is some big mystery. I bet there is an easy algorithm for finding the g-spot every time.” 

Q was only vaguely taking in the conversation around him, but his drink-fuzzed mind felt the need to comment, even has he tried to concentrate on the game at hand (it was complicated and math-centered and used both cards and dice). 

“So you think a computer would make a better lover than you?” Q asked, throwing down his cards and finishing off his drink. He turned to address the people chatting behind him, some of whom chuckled at his comment. 

“No!” 

“Well I think it would,” Q challenged. 

“Oh really? You could find a program that could perform sex better than a human.”

“No, but I could build one. Easily.” 

“Really?”

“Of course.”

They all looked at each other, then back to Q. 

“Alright. Prove it.”

\---

And now here he was, in charge of creating the program and the toy in the span of a week, on top of his other duties in the Q Department. He managed to shoo everybody back to their own stations and jobs, and collected the research that had been gathered on just what made the best sexual experience, where to find both the male and female g-spots, and most popular sex toys. He put it all aside, because he had a job to do after all. 

During his lunch he began to sort through all of it. Sitting alone at his desk with a sandwich and a cup of tea, he scribbled and highlighted the most important parts and began to sketch out the prototype. At home he worked on it more. 

That was how the week went on. He would plan and design mostly and home and spend his lunch break putting together the toy. He scrapped the first two attempts. Not good enough. It needed to be multi-functioning, he quickly realized. The only toy a person would ever need to buy. Good for girls, guys, those who wanted penetration, those who didn’t, and a good number of people in between. The most important thing was that it needed to function itself. No thousands of settings to adjust and change to find what was perfect for you, it had to be as automated as possible. 

On Thursday two co-workers approached him, smirking. “So, how’s it going?”

Q pushed his glasses up his nose. “I’m going to need another week.”

“No, the bet was--”

“Fine. One more week,” the other man cut the first one off. “If this works, we’ll make a fortune.”

Q hadn’t even considered commercializing the product, and he honestly wasn’t interested in making money off of it anyway. It wasn’t like they could do it on their own, though. He made a mental note to get patents, just in case. 

\----

“Q, I need a new-- what the bloody hell is that?” 

Somehow Bond had managed to find him during his lunch. Q was hunched over his desk, pencil in his mouth and soldering tool in hand. His sweater had been abandoned and his shirt sleeves rolled up. 

“Nothing,” he answered quickly, spitting out the pencil and pushing the half-completed device away. “What do you need?” 

Bond continued to stare at it. “Is that a torture device?” 

“No! It’s just a side project.” Q threw his sweater over it. “What do you want, Bond? I’m busy.” He didn’t mean to snap, but he was sleep deprived and finishing this thing was driving him crazy. he’d been carting it back and forth from home to MI6 and back again for the past couple of days. Staying up most nights to try and meet the extended deadline. 

“I need a new mobile.” 

Q leaned on the desk and groaned. “Again? What do you do, eat them?”

The agent frowned. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, yes. Just a bit overworked. I’ll get you a new one by the end of the day, alright?” Q grabbed his tablet and began filling out the order for a new cellphone. He had forgotten about the agent’s presence when the man touched his shoulder. 

“Hey.” Q looked up. “Relax, alright. You look stressed as hell.” Bond rubbed his shoulder gently. “Maybe take some time off? Don’t need you short-circuiting. You young ones always burn yourself out too quickly.” Bond was smiling at him, but his eyes showed genuine concern. Q couldn’t even think of a retort. When the agent walked away, he did feel quite a bit more relaxed. 

\----

The small crowed buzzed with excitement. Many people from different departments had turned out as well. Apparently Q’s new invention was the talk of MI6. He stood beside the covered device, ready for it’s big reveal. Q cleared his throat and removed the sheet. The design was sleek and elegant. It was waterproof, had a 36-hour battery life, and a separate remote for selecting which function one was to use, as well as controlling intensity and speed. And of course, it was able to automatically find any person’s g-spot. 

“How?”

Q looked up, glaring at the interruption in his presentation, as if he was actually standing in front of M and others of importance, talking about a new gun or program. Of course, it was Bond.

“It follows an algorithm I developed. A bit over the head of a field agent, I’m afraid.” The Quartermaster smirked but Bond didn’t seem bothered. 

“And how do you know it works? Have you tested it yourself?”

“Have I--- what?”

“Have you used it?”

“Of course not.”

Now Bond smirked back. “Then how do you have any idea if it actually *works*?” Murmurs moved through the crowd. Q felt his ears and the back of his neck grow hot. He threw the sheet back over the device. 

“You’ll just have to take my word for it, 007.”

“Wait, he’s right! How do we know if you won the bet if it doesn't get tested?” Other voices added in and Q’s blush grew. 

“It was a pointless and silly exercise! Everybody back to work!” Q shoved the device into a box and stalked off to his office. Muttering and disappointed people returned to their own work while he hid behind his computer and angrily typed out another layer of protection to MI6’s firewall. Complete unnecessary, but setting it to attack and destroy the possible hacker’s hard drive made him feel better. 

He didn’t look up until there was a knock at his door. It was Bond. The man came in and closed the door behind him. 

“I came to apologize.”

“Oh, did you now?” 

“Yes. I’m sorry I embarrassed you.”

“I was not embarrassed.” 

Bond moved and perched on the edge of his desk, arms cross over his chest. “I think I have a way to make it up to you. Come by my place tonight. And bring that...thing.”

Q was skeptical. “Why?”

Bond gave him a smile that ate away at Q’s annoyance. “Just bring it. Around nine?” 

\---

At nine o’clock Q was buzzed into Bond’s flat. It was a nice, a basic upscale bachelor pad. Drinks were made and Q found himself relaying the history of the new device without much prompting. 

“It was stupid, a waste of time.”

“Do you really think it works, though?”

Q shrugged. “Based off of the data I received, at least. It was never meant to be taken seriously.”

“And this all started because of a wager?” Bond was smiling at him in a way that made Q blush. “Well, since you’re such a fan of betting, I have a new one for you.” Bond stood up and walked around the low coffee table separating them. He leaned on the arm of Q’s chair, reminding him very much of a lion on the prowl. 

“What kind of bet?”

“I want to put your machine to the test. See if it can actually get a person off. You being the test subject.” 

Q’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Are you serious?” 

Bond gazed cooly down at him. “Very.” 

Q stood up quickly, the other man didn’t move. “I don’t know if that is entirely appropriate, 007.” 

“You didn’t let me finish the terms of the wager.” Q narrowed his eyes at Bond and pursed his lips, waiting for him to go on. “You’re a man of science. You know you can’t have an experiment without a control.” 

“Of course.”

“So, I’ll be your control.”

“Sorry?” Q wasn’t sure he was understanding the man correctly, unless Bond was actually suggesting...

“It’s simple. One round with your prefect sex toy, and one round with me. You may have charts and statistics and variables, but none of your data will ever compete with an actual, experienced, human lover.” Bond stood up. He was only barely taller than Q but the confidence in his eyes made him tower. “I wager that I can make you come harder and faster than your machine.” The man smirked. “I’ll even let it go first. It’s only fair, since after I’m done with you, you won’t be able to stand, let alone go again.” 

Q’s mind was in shock but he quickly nudged it back on track. “I think you underestimate the virility of youth, 007.” 

“And I think you overestimate the abilities of your machine.” 

Q nodded. “Alright, fine.” He held out his hand and they shook. “It’s a bet then.” 

They moved into the bedroom, Bond carrying the machine. He ordered Q to strip and lay down on the bed. The younger man reminded himself that this was all in the name of science. He took of his clothing and folded it carefully, placing it on top of Bond’s dresser. When he glanced at the other man, he wasn’t looking at him appraisingly or eyeing his body (which Q considered to be too skinny and pale to get much appraisal anyway) and it concreted it more that this was an experiment. Not quite the office tryst he’d imagined. Not that he spent his time imagining office trysts. Then Bond smirked, handing over the machine. Q nodded. Time to get to work. It was almost like he was back in Q Department going over a new invention. Except he’d never found occasion to be naked at work. 

\---

“Might I make a comment?”

“What, 007?”

“You look absolutely miserable.” 

“Noted, thank you.” 

He was having a bit of a difficulty with the machine. He could set all the controls to what he knew from experience he might like, but once he let it go and the low-level AI components kicked it it was uncomfortable and awkward. He just couldn’t get it exactly right. Like being endlessly teased and not any fun at all. 

“Do you need some help, Q?”

“No, thank you 007.” 

It was beginning to cross the line from ‘almost pleasurable’ to ‘actually painful.’ Q messed at the controls. 

“Q, you look like you are in pain. Maybe it’s time to stop.” 

“No, it’s fine.” He’d only been going at it for twenty minutes. 

“This is literally becoming painful to watch.” 

“Well then don’t!” 

Bond sighed. He was lounging in an arm chair across the room, just watching. Q switched a couple of settings and the machine adjusted. He must have done something right because it began to feel very good. 

“Ah! See,” he looked over at Bond. “Told you it worked.” Q had to look away after that. A flush was spreading over his chest, his breath was becoming heavy. He grasped the bedsheets in his fists. “Ah, fuck!” The machine, sensing the growing arousal, adjusted itself again. “Oh.” Q’s eyes widened. It was different, and then... “Ow. Ow OW BLOODY HELL!” He tried to scramble away from the thing. Bond flew across the room and grabbed the machine, flinging it away. 

“Q? Q, are you alright?” 

“Yes, fine. You didn’t have to throw it all the wall!”

“It was hurting you.” 

Q pushed his glasses onto his nose where they’d mostly fallen off. “Yes, but all the same.” He looked at it on the floor where it sat unmoving, several pieces broken off. “I suppose the experiment is a failure.”

“The experiment’s not over yet.”

Q turned slowly to face Bond, who looked quite serious. “It’s alright, 007, you don’t have to--”

“Now, Q.” The man carefully removed his glasses. “I never thought you would be one to disgrace science by leaving an experiment uncompleted.” Q gulped. Bond was close enough that he could still see him fairly clearly without his glasses. “Unless, you don’t...”

“No, I think you’re right. It’s better for science.” Q would have made fun of himself if he could step back and hear that, but for the moment he simply scooted back on the bed, allowing Bond room to crawl in beside him.  
med  
Bond pushed his hand through the other man’s hair, moving it away from his face, before carefully leaning in to kiss him. 

Bond was certainly not a robot. He pushed Q back against the bed, kissing him slowly and quite thoroughly. He ran his hands down the younger man’s sides. Q reached for Bond’s shirts but his hands were stopped and gently pinned to the bed by his wrists. 

“You don’t have to do anything.” Bond kissed across his jaw and down his neck. “Must keep those variables the same.” 

Q shivered under the man’s touch. “Yes, but I did have control over the settings on the machine...”

Bond smirked down at him. “Alright. You can tell me what you want. Verbally only.” 

Q chewed on his lower lip. “Alright...shirt off, then.” Bond complied immediately, sitting up to shuck off his top. Q had seen the man shirtless before. Debriefings sometimes coincided with med crews descending to wrap the man in bandages and sew up the occasional wound. He was muscular, of course, and Q wondered if anybody had ever tried to document all the scars the man had. It was a bit frightening how many of them were close to vital organs. He trailed his fingers over a few of the larger ones. 

Bond leaned over him and kissed down his neck and chest. “Anything else?” 

“Pants?” Q gasped at the other bit his shoulder in response. Bond worked at his neck while he wiggled out of his pants. Q was grateful that he normally wore collared shirts, though he wouldn’t be surprised if 007 purposefully put it just high enough to be seen under his shirt. 

Bond kissed him slowly, and when he spoke their lips brushed. “What do you want?” Q let out a shaky breath. Bond’s hands moved lower, until his fingers met the tops of his legs. He trailed his finger tips over and brushed them across Q’s length, which was showing a lot of interest. He squeezed and Q gasped, arching towards the man. “Awaiting orders.” 

“Really? Normally you just go off on your own.” That earned him another bite. “Ah! You could...put that mouth to better use?” He could feel Bond’s mouth smirking against him. He kissed Q’s abused skin before moving lower, leaving a hot trail with his mouth and tongue. 

Q’s face was hot. He couldn’t believe James Bond, the most dangerous man in the world, was actually going to-- he cried out and grasped the sheets in his fists. He would have to look into MI6 training, because there was no way it had involved relieving agents of their gag reflex. Q grabbed his hair in one hand and bit down on his lip. He lifted his head, changing a look down and let out a whiney groan. Bond looked back up at him coyly, and Q wondered how he would ever be able to look at this man at work again, after seeing him there with his cock all the way down his throat. He pulled off and kissed the inside of Q’s thighs as he stroked him with two fingers. 

Bond moved the fingers lower, between Q’s legs. He looked up at the other again and their eyes. Q nodded, his skin flushed all the way down to his chest. Bond pushed both fingers into him slowly, using the lube left there by the machine (too much lube, that might have been a mistake in retrospect adding that to the machine). Q put his head back, relaxing into the bed. Bond was lazily stroking him, and his fingers seemed to be moving a bit too carefully. 

“What are you doing?”

“Just checking to make sure that thing didn’t hurt you.”

“Thank you for you concern, 007, but I really am fine now.”

Bond kissed his thigh. “Pity. I was hoping you would learn a lesson. I guess I’ll have to just fuck one into you.” Q’s cock twitched almost violently. Bond laughed, kissing the head. He took Q into his mouth again at the same time as he added a third finger. Q pulled at his hair, arching off the bed. Bond was very thorough in making sure he was good at stretched, all the while distracting him with his mouth. 

“Ah! Please!”

“What do you want?” 

“Please, 007....James....please, fuck me.” Q blushed brightly. He wasn’t normally one for any kind of dirty talk, especially being so upfront and needy. But he felt as if he were about to burst and after everything his body had been through in the past hour he desperately wanted to get off. 

Bond kissed his way back up Q’s body before sitting up on his knees. He put a pillow under Q’s back and grabbed his knees, moving them around. 

“Ah, variables!” Bond stopped and gave him a look. “Kidding. Please continue.” Bond finished arranging Q’s limbs how he wanted them and lined himself up. Q could feel the tip of his cock and squirmed in anticipation. Finally he spread Q’s knees apart and pushed himself in easily. 

Q grabbed the back of Bond’s neck and pulled him down, kissing him hungrily. The man was ruthless, giving Q exactly what he wanted. When Q dug his finger nails into the man’s shoulder and arched, crying out, Bond somehow superhumanly managed to aim for that spot perfect every time. 

Q clawed at Bond’s back and make a series of embarrassing noises. The older man kissed him, one hand on his cock and the other at his throat. Q remembered how powerful those hands were, what they’d done. He yelled the man’s name as he came harder than he ever had in his life. As Q melted bonelessly into the sheets, Bond began to move away. He used up the last of his energy to wrap his legs around the man’s waist. “No, don’t,” he panted. “I want you to finish.” 

Bond slid back into him. He was slow and careful with Q’s oversensitive body. When he came it was with a deep groan that made Q shiver and arch into the other man. He pulled away and they laid next to each other. 

“Consensus Quartermaster?” 

“I think my machine needs a bit of work.” 

Bond chuckled breathlessly and for a while the room was only full of the sound of them breathing. “So...we’re on a first name basis now?”

“Sorry, I just thought--”

“Just don’t do it at work.” 

Q turned his head to look at Bond. The man had his eyes closed, sweat making his skin shine. Q smiled.


End file.
